


The Foxhole Collective

by bloodydamnit



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Artists, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Painting, aftg, for some, mature for now, nude modeling will be a thing, the foxhole court - Freeform, will turn explicit later ;)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-23 16:14:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16622213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodydamnit/pseuds/bloodydamnit
Summary: What would happen, if you took the Foxes and made them artists, instead of Exy players? What if Neil spent his college time in Baltimore, rather than South Carolina? What would AFTG look like from Andrew's point of view?Welcome to The Foxhole Collective! An Art School Au that takes AFTG and turns it on it's head.





	The Foxhole Collective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foundation year ended and no one died, so that was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST AND FOREMOST. SHOUT OUT TO MY BETA [@fuzzballsheltiepants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzballsheltiepants/pseuds/fuzzballsheltiepants) for REALLY holding it down. You are positively amazing and I am so grateful to have your help and support. Honestly, I'd be lost without you on this. Also, thank you for putting up with me, oh my goodness. Please go check them out if you have not already (what the hell are you doing? Go!)  
> Any mistakes in here are completely my own. It's past 1am here and I'm trying to get this chapter out. So if there's anything sticking out, its completely by my dumb ass and not by this beautiful angel.
> 
> Alright! Finally, here it is. My little brain child. I don't know where the idea came from. Originally, I wanted to write an original story of  
> my experiences in art school. Then, I started writing BloodSport and I thought, oh my god, what if the foxes were art students? And voila, this is the result. 
> 
> Now, I think I have to have a disclaimer. This IS a real place. The Maryland Institute College of Art is a real college that I attended. The building is real, the names are real, the campus, everything. I've literally just taken the foxes and moved them in there. I will not however use any real professor names and keep in mind, these experiences are WHOLY MY OWN. Also, the story is told in Andrew's pov and he has a pretty grim outlook on shit. I, personally, loved MICA to bits and pieces and I had the time of my life there. 
> 
> Also, you'll come across a place called the Fox building. That's an actual building at MICA. The GFA and Illustration offices are held there, which I completely forgot until I started writing. It literally fit in just too perfectly. Ugh. The stars were aligned. 
> 
> Also, I dont hate RISD. I just played on the schools stereotypes. Please don't hate me. 
> 
> Anyway. There is a small trigger warning for this chapter:  
> Reference to past drug use, incarceration, and a very brief, implied thought of suicide. Nothing in this chapter is explicit though. Think of it as a prologue - a precursor for chapter 2 when real shit will start happening. 
> 
> Okay, I've talked enough. I hope you all enjoy!

Welcome to the Maryland Institute College of Art. According to the Princeton Review, it’s one of the top rated art schools in the country and the best in the northeast. The first part is certainly true; the second, many would argue, debatable.

MICA rests on the westside of Baltimore in a small area called Mount Royal and Bolton Hill. It’s pocketed in by the University of Baltimore (UB), and the roughly neglected, inner city. Many students call this deceptively beautiful place, the MICA Bubble. Most keep inside the ‘nice’ areas and don’t dare venture too far north, south, or west. Others, the idiots, consider Baltimore their stomping grounds. Andrew’s received too many emails at 3 in the morning from Campus Safety notifying the student body that someone has yet again, been mugged.

It was always the same story too. Some unsuspecting student, returning from the studio at the asscrack of dawn, ignoring the available night shuttle, and carting around $3,000 worth of equipment. At some point, sympathy runs out and eye-rolling begins.

Just to be clear, mugging is wrong, don’t really need to spell that out. But, Andrew couldn’t _really_ blame those that did it. If he cared enough, was a criminal (hah), or found the need, he would be mugging the dumb fucks too. If only to disprove the facade of immunity.

Nevertheless, MICA is a small private school, predominantly white, and championed for its ‘diversity’. The students are loud, obnoxious, and half the time, Andrew wondered why he ever accepted The Foxhole Scholarship.

After all, he never saw himself going to college; he never even thought he’d finish high school. Growing up in the system, spending time in juvie, and toting a criminal record, he fully expected becoming a statistic. Then, one day in his senior year at Columbia* High, his art teacher, Ms. Delaney, pulled him over and introduced him to David Wymack, the Chair of the Department of General Fine Arts (GFA) at the Maryland Institute College of Art. Apparently, Delaney took it upon herself to share his portfolio to several recruiters at the high school's annual college fair (the fair Andrew ‘accidentally’ missed). Making several digital copies, she distributed  ~~whored~~ him out to the masses and waited for someone to take a nibble. This, David Wymack, was apparently the best one—the only one—that did their research and took the bait.

He was a hard looking man, with thick arms, tired eyes, and legit looking tribal tattoos. He made a short and sweet case:

“No one else is going to take you. But I think you have talent, kid. Lots of it. I’m here to offer you our Foxhole Scholarship. It’s a second chance program — Hold on”

Andrew _might_ have gotten out of his chair and walked to the door of Ms. Delaney’s office. Wymack _might_ have also gotten up and blocked Andrew from leaving. Andrew _might_ have considered a trip back to juvie, if only to stab this uppity guy, trying to give him a handout. Wymack _might_ have sensed the threat, holding up his hands as if trying to soothe a frightened animal.

“Hear me out. It’s a full ride to one of the best art schools in the country. The fuck else are you going to do? I read your record.” He crossed his arms over his chest and Andrew debated the ways he could fillet a man.

Art was just something Andrew did. It was something that took the pain away and numbed his mind from the realities of life. He didn’t find himself particularly good; in fact, Aaron was much better. So why in the hell was _he_ being offered this chance? It sounded like a joke and that’s how Andrew treated it.

He stared Wymack down in stubborn silence until the man gave up and stepped aside. Andrew left, Delaney calling after him, and considered that to be the end of it.

Then the letters, brochures, and pamphlets, started pouring in. He felt like he was Harry fucking Potter or something. Every day, he’d come home to a neat stack on the kitchen table and an excited Nicky (his underqualified, self-sacrificing, 20 year old guardian, and general pain in the ass of a cousin) sitting at the head with a nervous, but hopeful smile dancing on his face. Every time, Andrew picked up the stack and made a grand show of throwing them away. That became their routine for a straight month. Where Nicky lacked in common sense, he made up in persistent optimism.

The routine was nearing mundane when David Wymack showed up for a second time. The man was good, Andrew had to give him that. Instead of asking for only him to attend the meeting, he also requested Aaron. Andrew assumed Delaney overstepped her bounds again and shared his brothers portfolio too. He only went to the meeting to tell her off, but was greeted not by Delaney, but Nicky, Wymack, and Aaron, instead  

“Is this an intervention?” Andrew had asked, closing the door behind himself and crossing his arms over his chest. “You got the wrong twin.”

Aaron glared at him. It was pretty low blow (for a few reasons). Andrew could do better.

“Of sorts...” Nicky replied, smile twitching and hands fidgeting in his lap. “I— Andrew. This is an amazing fucking opportunity. And you keep on _literally_ throwing it away,” he explained.

“Your cousin Nicky here, called last week. He had an interesting proposal.” Wymack said, leaning against Delaney’s messy desk with his arms and legs crossed.

Nicky cleared his throat and pointed towards Wymack, “Right. So, uh...” he slowed down when Andrew glared at him.

“Uh, what, _Nicky_?” Andrew asked tilting his head.

“Oh for fucks sake— ” Nicky then cursed in german and sighed dramatically. He went to speak, but Aaron cut in instead.

“MICA is connected to Johns Hopkins. I can take classes at both schools. It’s an opportunity we’d be fucking stupid to pass up. We’d never get that chance. Wymack offered me the scholarship too. I’m taking it and so should you.” Aaron stared directly at Andrew. Apparently Wymack had been told that Andrew wouldn’t be able to say no with this turn of events. His face turned smug and Andrew clenched his teeth.

Alright old man. You win this one.  

“And,” Nicky held up a hand. “I promised to be here for the both of you. That was the whole _point,_ right...? Us? A family? Wymack and I talked,” he looked up at Wymack and motioned between them with that hand, “and he’s offering to take me on too. All three of us.”

Andrew very rarely let his face reflect what he was feeling. But in that moment,  he blinked and raised his brows in surprise, “I’m sorry, what?”

“What what..?” Nicky’s hand dropped forward on his wrist.

“You.” Andrew pointed with a lazy finger, “ _You_ managed to get _him_ to accept _us_.” He swung his finger around the space between the three of them. “ _You_ swindled _three_ scholarships, to a $50,000 school, out of _him._ ” He ended on pointing to Wymack, letting pity drip into his eyes.

“W— why yes. Yes I have.” Nicky straightened his back stubbornly.

“Oh. Oh you’re pathetically desperate, aren’t you...” The pity seeped into his voice as a frown tugged minutely at his lips. "What about Erik?" Erik was Nicky's German boyfriend... From Germany. 

Nicky's shoulders slumped a bit and he waved his hand nonchalantly, "I've already talked to him. We both agreed that this is important. He encouraged me to do it, so here we are. Doing it. Us. Because I am a  _very_ good negotiator." His smile was a bit too put on, but Andrew didn't push it. 

Wymack grunted at the exchange as if asking if they were finished, before he turned around on the desk and picked up a pile of papers. He handed one packet to Nicky, another to Aaron, and held the last to Andrew.

Andrew took it, but only with, “You have no clue what you’re getting yourself into.”

Wymack looked unimpressed. “Read the fine print before you agree. There are a few caveats. Number one,” He motioned for Nicky to turn a few pages. Once he got to the right one, Wymack tapped it. “You must keep a 3.0 GPA at least. That means actual effort. Can’t just slack off and not go to class. You dip below? You’re out, no questions asked, no _third_ chances.” Wymack shrugged a shoulder. Andrew rose a single brow. The old man didn’t seem to like that rule. Interesting.

“Number two. You must work on campus. We got a shit ton of jobs. None too hard. It’s not a big deal and the scholarship doesn’t include a stipend. So you’ll be grateful for money comin’ in.” Wymack ignored Andrew’s glare, Aaron’s grimace, and Nicky’s contemplative nod of understanding. “Three, you must live on campus —specifically, with the Collective.”

“The what?” Andrew asked. It sounded like some hippy shit.

Wymack motioned for him to turn to the next page with a sigh and roll of his eyes. “You’re already fuckin’ aging me...” he mumbled.

The next page was headed in bold with, **The Foxhole Collective**. Andrew felt his upper lip curl slightly in disgust. He glanced up towards his cousin and brother to see their reactions. There were none.

“It was in the brochures,” Nicky explained. “You kept on throwing them away, but Aaron and I looked them over.”

Aaron didn’t look up, still reading through the list of rules, “Have to make art throughout the summer. It’s a five year program.” He mumbled, ignoring the three of them.

Wymack hummed, growled, whatever it was, it didn’t sound good for his throat. “The Foxhole Collective, is the Scholarship program. It’s a group of multi-media artists, all there for that second chance.”

“So, you’re housing all the fuck-ups together. That sounds like a liability.” A huge liability and the stupidest idea he’s ever heard.

Wymack pursed his lips, but ultimately didn’t take the bait. “We’re very involved, both in Baltimore _and_ the art community. Think of us as a college sports team.”

Andrew and Aaron both scoffed.

Wymack rolled his eyes. “We attend conventions throughout the country to show our work. There, you also have the opportunity to sell. It’s not a competition on paper, but it is between schools.” He paused, waiting for comments that didn’t come. “We’re up against Parsons, Pratt, RISD*, SAIC*, SVA*—”

Andrew motioned for him to hurry it up. Wymack narrowed his eyes.

“Those conventions carry throughout the summer. That means, you have June off, then return to campus for July and August. Those are the biggest convention times.”

“So basically.” Andrew cut in, “You want us to give up our lives for five years, to make art for your hippy dippy collective.”

Wymack looked to be considering that, tilting his head to the side. Aaron just rose a brow and bounced his leg. Nicky was reading through the packet, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Okay.” Andrew decided.

All three looked up and said in unison, “Okay?"

“Okay.” He pushed himself off the wall and wiggled his fingers for a pen. “Where do we sign?” He snatched a micron off one of Delaney’s side tables and flipped through the packet. At the end there was a line for his signature, so he turned to the door and used it as a flat surface.

The three of them were doing the same behind him, Nicky gasping in surprise, Aaron mumbling, “finally," and Wymack pointing out the proper places. Andrew used his own judgement and scrawled his signature on most of the empty lines except for one reserved for ‘Parent/Guardian’. Once that was done, he turned around and held the packet out for Nicky to complete the deal as he did the same for Aaron.

So, that day, Andrew signed the next five years of his life away. As someone that had no prospects in life, even he could admit it was a pretty good deal. In the very least, the experience would likely be interesting. And that, for him, was enough.

-

Interesting, was definitely a word for it.  If Andrew knew being contractually obligated to make art for five years would be _this_ much fun, he would’ve said yes the first time.

Everything started out fine.  ~~Freshmen~~ Foundation year seemed simple enough. When the three of them arrived on campus, they were greeted by a small, rag-tag group of students that looked positively _overjoyed_ with their arrival. Wymack stood to the side to introduce them as the ‘new recruits’ and Nicky was the only one of the cousins to wave hello.

There were only three in total, which was sad (no wonder why Wymack was so desperate). One of them stepped forward with this bright smile that made Andrew immediately dislike her. She introduced herself as:

“Hi, I’m Dan Wilds. I’m a Junior illustration major, Vice President of the BSU*, and Captain of the Foxhole Collective.” She bounced slightly on her toes, reeking self confidence and team spirit. It was disgusting. “I’ll be the one you come to if you ever need any help or have any questions. Though I’m sure these two,” she had motioned behind her, “and the rest of the collective, would love to do that too.”

Oh, there were more. Lovely.

“There are three others. Two are working across campus, the other is on his way,” Wymack added.

Before Andrew could even get in a sarcastic word, Nicky opened his big mouth.

“Nice to meet you,” He stepped in between the twins, readjusted his duffle bag, and held out his free hand. “Wymack did a great job of introducing us, but since we’re sharing a bit more, I’m Nicky Hemmick. Undecided. Very gay. And related to these two pockets of sunshine.” He shook Dan’s hand, then took it back and waved to the other two hippy-dippy crew members.

Wymack made that funny sound in his throat again and said, “Great. You will all have time to buddy up later. We still have Matt flying in and you’ll all meet Abby tomorrow. Let’s get a fuckin’ move on. Dan will give you a tour and show you where you’ll be staying. You two,” He motioned towards the other ‘foxes’, “Get back to work.” He clapped his hands like a fucking coach and waved them all towards the building in front of them.

One with pastel hair smiled at them. Her hands were neatly held in front of her as she turned around and ascended the front stairs. The other, a tall blond girl who looked severely out of place, smirked at Nicky. She said while following the pastel one, “We’re going to be really good friends,” to which Nicky beamed and Andrew groaned. She shot a glare at him that _may_ have impressed Andrew at least a bit.

Wymack departed with a finger pointed at Andrew and said strictly, “Behave,” then walked down the street.

Only Dan remained, still smiling, looking ever-so-optimistic. They were standing on the front steps of Founders Green (according to Nicky on the drive in). Andrew’s insanely nice car that he had bought with his dead mother’s insurance money, was parked on the curb, filled with shit Nicky said they _absolutely needed._  

“Promise everyone is at least part way decent. Well, Seth’s a dick, but otherwise,” Dan waved her hand and rolled her eyes, then pointed that hand towards Andrew’s car. “You can leave that there for now. We’ll do a quick tour and I’ll get you your parking permit.” She smiled again and side stepped towards the entrance.

“Who’s Abby?” Aaron asked, watching Wymack leave, then following the three up the stairs.

“Isn’t she one of the co-founders of the collective?” Nicky spoke up. Andrew looked at him funny. “It was in the brochure. If you bothered to read one of the hundred Wymack sent us.”

“He didn’t tell you about Abby?” Dan paused with a surprised look on her face. “What an asshole,” she mumbled. “Abby Winfield is the co-founder. She and Wymack built the scholarship together, ten or so years ago. She’s also the head of Illustration, an absolute sweetheart, and if anyone hurts her, we have a pact to kill them.” She shrugged and turned around.

“Anyway! Welcome to Founder’s Green. Primarily freshman dorms, but this will be your home for the next five years. Luckily—” She said over her shoulder, ascending the front steps, “We get to stay in the new building. Just built this summer.” She swiped her id card and then opened the glass doors.

The inside looked to only be an entrance area. There was a reception desk off to the right (where the blond and pastel foxes now sat), a door right behind, and a whiteboard decorated with _Welcome to MICA!_ tucked off to the side. Branching off the main area was another room to the left. There were comfortable looking couches, chairs, two vending machines, doors at the end, and two bathrooms. Large glass windows lined the entire wall and corresponding doors lead out to an outdoor seating area.

“Okay. This is Latrobe.” Dan walked in after them and pointed to the reception. “Introduce yourselves,” She approached the desk and leant against it.

The pastel girl smiled a gentle smile that somehow looked just as out of place as the blond seemed. Andrew narrowed his eyes and decided that she, he liked.

“Hello... My name is Renee Walker. I’m a Junior like Dan and,” she looked to the blond next to her, “Allison. I’m a drawing major, and I’m really excited to see your art.” She directed at the three of them. Her voice was smooth and calm.

Allison’s was not. She flipped her hair over her shoulder— _literally_ —and leant back in her chair. Her smile was far less gentle, veering on fake, which Andrew supposed he could appreciate. “Allison Reynolds. Junior, fibers major, rich, taken, and uninterested.” She shot her eyes towards Andrew.

He couldn’t help the sound that left his lips. It could have been a laugh, but Andrew didn’t _do_ laughing. He didn’t bother replying to her. “Is she always a bitch?” He asked Dan.

To which she replied, “Yep.” Her smile turning teasing as she glanced towards what Andrew assumed to be her friend. “Now that’s out of the way.” She tapped the desk. “You’ll see these at pretty much every building. Check in desk. Usually run by two assistants, which is a job one of you will probably have the joy of filling.”

Renee shrugged, “Mundane. But, good for getting work done.”

Nicky looked to Allison, “If you’re rich, why are you working?”

“Contract.” She pulled a nail file from one of the desks cups and started filing her claws.

“If you’re rich, why’d you sign the contract?” Aaron asked right after.

Allison looked up annoyed. “If you must know, I chose to be in the collective. My father is a big investor in this place. I wanted to piss him off. Not like it’s any of your business.” She went back to her nails.

Nicky hummed in surprised understanding, Aaron pulled his chin back, Andrew smirked. Dan clicked her tongue, amused, then continued, “You also come here if you’ve locked yourself out, want to pick up mail, etcetera, etcetera. If you want to be a desk assistant, you’ll also have the honor of putting away packages when mail comes in. So, have fun with that.” She waved to the two girls.

“When are you picking up your boo-thang?” Allison called out as Dan then turned and motioned them out the back doors of Latrobe.

“In two hours. Finishing up here then going straight there.” She called over her shoulder and lead the cousins into a concrete area. There were a few benches parallel to Latrobe, then right behind them, a steep green hill. On either sides were two basketball hoops, and set of stairs leading to an upper level.

Nicky asked, “Is that who Matt is?” Digging his nose in where it presumably, didn’t belong again. Aaron wasn't paying attention. Andrew sighed dramatically.

Dan just threw him a playful smile and nodded. “So back off Nicky! He’s mine.” She teased and took them to the right, starting up the stairs.

“ _This_ is actually Founders.” She moved on, gesturing up, then around as they got to the top. The hill bled into a large grassy court area, complete with benches and picnic tables. Boxing them in were three buildings. Each were four stories high, made of brick, trimmed in blue, and open air. Dan pointed to the right and left buildings, “Spear and Carter,” then to the front, “Glace.” She turned around and started walking backwards underneath an overhang of Spear. There were dorms lining their way. “All dorms are suites and most are singles. You’ll have a kitchen, a bathroom, and bedrooms to yourselves.” They came upon the end of Spear. There were steps leading to the upper levels, but also steps going down. Dan nodded towards them, “Every building has studio space. Sign ups are on the walls. Be clean, courteous, try not to be a dick.”

Aaron, who hadn’t said a word since arriving, looked to actually be listening to every word Dan said. Andrew grimaced a bit and shoved his hands into his pockets. Nicky hummed whenever Dan ended a sentence, as if letting her know that he was listening.

They walked along a concrete path towards Glace. There was a large archway that split the building in two. The smaller left side, was laundry, then to the right, was a dining hall called the Glace Grill. Stairs led up to the dorm areas and also down towards the studios.

“The Grill is new.” Dan commented. “Food’s not too bad. Pizza is deplorable.” Andrew could hear her roll her eyes. “There’s a lounge with a tv. Most of the crew members are cool.” She nodded towards the laundry area, “Machines work off your id card, but they also take coins. Again, don’t be a dick and clean your fuckin’ lint trays. We don’t need a fire.”

Coming out from under Glace was another court area, but definitely newer. The ground was covered with hexagon tiled pavement. Picnic tables lined Glace Grill and to the far right was the end of the parking lot. In front of them was the new dorm building and in the middle of it all was a smoking area with metal benches that matched the fence that blocked them in. They looked cold, but Andrew nodded in approval.

“Leake Hall.” Dan announced, spreading out her arms. “This will be your home, so get used to it. Feel lucky that you won't be staying in one of those,” the pointed towards the brick dorms.

Leake _was_ nice looking, Andrew supposed. It was an odd, contemporary styled building. There were floor to ceiling windows that covered almost the entirety of the first floor, and a quarter of the second. The rest of the building was cream and slate colored with a big **M I C A** sign on the upper right corner. Aaron sidled up beside Andrew and mimicked his stance, hands in his pockets and head tilted back. “Not bad,” he said and Andrew hummed in low agreement.

Nicky had his phone out and was taking a picture. Dan laughed and crossed her arms over her chest as she bounced lightly on her toes. “Don't be fooled. Outside’s nice, inside’s nicer. Dorms are adequate, but don't try to hang anything on the wall over 3 pounds.”

Nicky lowered his phone and gave her a confused look.

“The thing was built in one summer. We were allowed to move in just two weeks ago. The drywall sucks. They installed these really dope bike racks in each room too. Benny’s ripped right off. So.” Dan shrugged and smiled, “Better than Gateway at least. That’s the monolithic, stadium lookin’ building on the corner.” She pointed in the general direction.

Andrew knew what she was talking about. There was a large, circular building that greeted them to the campus. It had green and blue windows, and looked way too over the top.

“That’s the other dorm building right?” Nicky asked.

“Mm,” She hummed. “That and Brown are the shining jewels of MICA. They installed the windows wrong on it though. They’re those ‘can’t look in’ kind of windows. But the dumb asses reversed them. So. That’s a thing.” She laughed, but then clapped her hands. “Okay, enough standing around.” She turned and used her card to swipe them into the building. She used her knuckles to punch the handicap button so the doors would hold.

She was right. The inside was nice. The floors were smooth slate and the walls made of some stylish, industrial looking concrete slabs. Greeting them was another receptionist desk with no one behind it. There were a set of stairs to the left, hidden away in a bright looking alcove. On the right was a big open space with oddly shaped contemporary chairs. The right wall had a set of double doors. Dan pointed to them, “Lecture Hall. Few classes are held there, but it acts as a meeting place for big clubs, movie nights, and other events. It’s actually really nice.” She walked backwards again. “Yesterday we marathoned season 5 of Game of Thrones. Today’s season six.”

Nicky made an ‘oohh!’ sound. Aaron tilted his head side to side in consideration. Andrew made a sound in his throat.

“What?” Dan asked, “Too good for Game of Thrones?” She raised a brow towards Andrew.

He gave her a blank stare, “Books are better.”

“Ah... We’ve got a purist.”

Aaron scoffed, “Oh, she’s gonna learn...” Andrew shrugged, Nicky grimaced.

Dan gave them a confused look, then moved on and pointed down the hall where the main area branched off. “Studios are that way. Lots of natural light, really beautiful facility. There’s even a spray booth. Same concept as the others. There’s a sign up sheet. Don’t be a dick, the works. I’m sure you will manage.” She clicked the button for the elevator. Right beside it was a set of short stairs that lead to the back area. “Those,” She pointed as they waited, “Lead to the second studio space, as well as Mark’s office. He’s the head of Resident Life. He’s cool; has a dog named Sonic.” She smirked.

The elevator arrived and she stepped in. The space was large and the ceiling was 8 feet high. She used her card again and hit the second floor. “Could’ve taken the stairs, but learn to love this thing.”

Nicky looked above them and turned around. “Ceilings are really high.”

Aaron butted in, “Gotta swipe that thing a lot.”

Dan hummed and held up her card, “Baltimore.” As if that explained things. It sort of did. “You guys are from Columbia right? Know anything about Baltimore?”

Andrew raised a brow. Nicky and Aaron waited. They did know a bit. Columbia, Maryland was only a 30 minute drive away. For a while, the three of them worked in the Inner Harbor on the weekends. 

“We’re right on North Avenue. North Ave runs through the low income areas. Lot’s of crime goes on here. Don’t be fooled by the gentrified, white _beauty_ of MICA.” She looked to Andrew and squinted. She was going to say something else, but moved on to the second question. She pointed up as the doors opened and stepped out. “All ceilings are high here. More wall space for hanging pieces, and room for canvases and tall sculptures. You’ll appreciate them immensely once you take Color Abstraction.”

The elevator opened into a small lobby area. There were two couches, a coffee table, and then an L-shaped hallway. The short side went down one direction to the stairs. Several doors lined the way. The other was a long hallway with dorms on either side. Dan pointed to the short side, “Stairs. At the end is the lounge. There’s a piano in there too. Few dorms, but ours-” She motioned them to follow.

The cousins padded across the thin carpeted floors. There were two dorms on the right of them, then at the far end of the left was a light space. “RA lives there.” She pointed to one of the two dorms to the right. “We don’t really interact since this is the ‘lifestyle’ floor. But we will if there are any noise complaints. So keep the heavy metal or whatever on low,” She looked to Andrew again. He rolled his eyes.

They walked halfway down the hall and stopped in front of a room labeled 217.

“Yours,” She pointed to the left at the next dorm, “219 is mine, Allison, and Renee’s - the the one next to that in 221 is Matt, Seth, and Benny. You’ll meet them later”

Dan pulled out three little envelopes from her pockets. She examined the front and handed one to each of the cousins. “Id cards and keys.” Their names were stickered on the front, as well as their room letters. She pulled out another key and opened the door.

“Okay,” She started.

Andrew opened his envelope and pulled out his card and two sets of keys on a simple key ring. Nicky asked, “Small one?” Holding up the little key.

She stepped inside of their dorm and held it open. “Ah. Mail key. Don’t lose any of them. They’ll overcharge you to get ‘em replaced.” She motioned them in. Nicky was first, looking around with a wide, awed smile on his lips. Aaron followed and Andrew was last.

It really wasn’t bad. Could be worse, considering the shitty dorms he’s heard of. The floors were laminate light colored wood. To the right was the living area with two sets of couches (which looked to be two plush looking chairs pushed together), and a round coffee table at the center. To the left was the kitchen. It was actually nice. A square table rested in the center with four chairs. The countertop was stainless steel and the cabinets were black with silver accents. They had a standard sized fridge, an oven, stove, and microwave. Against the opposite wall were their rooms, Andrew assumed. Their corresponding letters were taped to the doors, with their names in some fancy font underneath. Andrew curled his lip in slight disgust.

“Much nicer than the old dorms.” Dan commented, closing the door behind them and looking around. “Your keys work for the front door and your own rooms. So you can lock them too if you so choose.” She pointed past the kitchen. “Bathrooms at the end. Shower, toilet, and sinks are all separate. Which is, ugh. Fucking awesome when you’re living with Allison.”

“Or me.” Nicky said playfully. Dan smiled.

“So yeah. I’ll leave you all to it. Andrew,” She pointed to him, “Meet me at the front once you’re done exploring. Renee will get your permit sticker and you can get that fancy-schmancy lookin’ car off the road. Probably want to do that sooner rather than later.” She headed back to the door. “Any questions, let me know. All of our numbers are on the table” She pointed to the sketchbook paper. “I’ve got to run. Matt’s gonna land soon and there’s gonna be traffic.” She waved goodbye and Nicky was the only one to wave back.

After getting the permit, moving his car to the gated lot, and their rooms fairly situated, they headed to Towson to pick up a few things at Target and Bed Bath & Beyond (Nicky’s favorite store). Their dorm was customized by 5 o’clock with a new TV, a few lamps, small entertainment center, groceries, kitchenware, and other necessary shit.  
Afterwards, they got to meet the other Foxes and Andrew determined he didn’t like any of them.

Besides Dan, Allison, and Renee there were three others:

Matt was a sophomore animation major. He was six foot something, loud, had a bright white smile that stood out against his dark skin, and kind eyes Andrew despised. His hair was shaved on either sides of his head and at the top were short dreads that stuck up. He seemed nice, not like Andrew liked nice people. He was also an addict. When he held his hand up to show how short the twins obviously were (five foot even), his sleeve rolled up. His forearm was scattered with scars of old track marks and that simply would not do.

Seth was exactly what Dan said, a dick. He had short, curly brown hair, and otherwise attractive, yet completely unremarkable in the way that _bros_ are. He was a senior film major, in his fourth year, and also Allison’s boyfriend. Like attracts like, Andrew supposed.

The last fox was a fifth year named Benny. She was the one who’s bike fell off the wall. She looked like she had just rolled out of a gutter. Her hair was oily black and sport several facial piercings. Andrew would go in more detail of how her clothes had more holes than fabric, but she kept her eyes on her phone and continued to throughout the year. Whenever he saw her, he watched for a few seconds too long to see if she’d walk into something. Sometimes, she did.

-

Summer passed quickly. There’s that saying, _from frying pan into the fire_ , and it summed up everything perfectly. After their first night, they went straight to the Fox* building to see the _Foxhole_ \- aka, their headquarters. They were stationed on the fourth floor in an old classroom to the front of the building. Paint covered the floors and most of the tables. For 50k a year, it didn’t exactly seem too _state of the art_. Nonetheless, there were huge windows that let in gorgeous natural light and overlooked the beautiful campus. Wymack formally introduced the cousins as people ‘not to torture yet’. Abby was there. She was of average height, objectively pretty, and the type of kind that Andrew liked: More than capable of putting you in your place if she must, with a sweet smile that could turn vicious in a flash. With introductions out of the way, they went over their schedule for the summer. The freshman weren’t forced to participate yet, so they were off the hook from creating art for most of the summer. Instead, they were tasked with paperwork and acclimating themselves to the campus. It wasn’t too bad, not really.

Their first convention came around. It was a lot of exploring for the three freshmen and was honestly pretty nice. They got to check out their ‘competition’ and listen to the upperclassmen give them the run down. According to them, Parsons and SVA* weren’t too bad. In fact, they got along pretty well. Allison had a few friends from FIT* so every so often, she disappeared (to Andrew’s great pleasure). There were several other schools that weren’t deemed important enough to compete with. They were fine and competed with each other.

Three schools remained and they were MICA’s biggest competitions. The Pratt Institute Cannoneers, from Brooklyn, were made up of snobby, stuck up artists that, as a result of their long-standing history and New York location, believed themselves better than everyone else. According to Dan, the Foxes and Cannoneers have been fighting for years. Nonetheless, a few of the artists were cool and they could talk on decent levels when they were not sticking their noses up at each other.

Then, there was the SAIC* Lions from Chicago. Honestly, they were pretty cool (and annoyingly upbeat). The artists were fantastic and fairly _chill_. The Foxes got along with them well and even visited their booth at each convention to say hello to their team captain, Jeremy Knox, a GFA major that worked with mixed medias.

Last, and certainly least, were the RISD Ravens. There weren’t words to describe the assholery of these fucks. Take the Cannoneers and multiply them by 10. Not only were they stuck up, snobby motherfuckers, but they were also entitled, stuck up, snobby mother fuckers. Normally, that would be the brand that Andrew appreciated - purely for the antagonism. But this was a whole other level.

Their team captain, Riko Moriyama, was a Grade-A Asshole. He had a _face tattoo_ of the number 1 underneath his left eye, presumably because he thought since he had work in the bloody Whitney, that he’s hot shit. His right hand man, Kevin Day, was marked with a number 2, and where Riko lacked, Kevin made up. _One-Two Punch_ kinda fuckers. Riko’s uncle and Kevin’s mother started collegiate art-conventions nearly 30 years ago. These two were practically royalty in the art community - they believed it too.

The Foxes avoided them at all costs. Not because they were scared of the Ravens, but because they were _exhausting_ . The few interactions Andrew’s had with them was like listening to a knight trying to duel in medieval times - or for a more relevant comparison, Missandei introduce Daenerys Targaryen. Like yes, we get it. You’re Riko Moriyama, first of your name, hailed from the _Moriyama’s_ , and blah fucking blah. Either put-up-and-shut-up, or go the fuck away.

It was better to stay out of their way and pretend they don’t exist rather than have a headache for the rest of the fuckin' day.

The Foxes ‘won’ one of the five conventions they attended. Not the best, but according to Matt, it was better than the previous year.

Speaking of Matt, Andrew corrected the potential problem at the beginning of August. Every weekend, the cousin’s took themselves out to PowerPlant Live!, a strip of bars and clubs in the Inner Harbor. The three of them used to work at one of the clubs, _Eden’s Twilight*,_ and still had a relationship with the bartenders there. Andrew decided to invite Matt along one night and that was when he corrected the potential problem. His methods got himself blacklisted by most of the Foxes. To him, it was worth it. Aaron was a previous addict as well. A few years earlier, Andrew brutally cut him cold turkey and would brook no questions about his methods. He’d been clean ever since and Andrew wasn’t going to risk a relapse. So yes, the Foxes no longer talked to the cousins (to Nicky’s chagrin and constant apologies), but Aaron was safe. To Andrew, that’s all that mattered.

-

Summer eventually ended and Foundation year began. Whomever said art school was easy, could get fucked. Perhaps if he were in a normal university, with normal tests, Andrew would excel. But an eidetic memory proved useless outside of his academic classes and Andrew found himself actually putting effort into his work.

Everything was fine for the first month (or fine enough). Andrew was tired, overworked, but even though he wouldn’t admit it, he was enjoying himself. Mount Royal and Bolton Hill was nice enough, the professors were non-invasive, work was mind numbing, and the conventions were entertaining.

The three cousins got two jobs each - one required on campus and one outside. Andrew and Nicky both worked in the school store (the MICA store) and Aaron was a Tech Assistant in the Print Lab. Outside of that, Andrew worked in Artists & Craftsmen (another art supply store across the ‘Rainbow Bridge’), while Nicky and Aaron worked at the local cafe, On the Hill.

•

Renee said the jobs and conventions were the reason why the scholarship was a five year program. It allowed them to spread out their schedules, while also completing the requirements of the Collective.

•

Once two months were up, everything went to shit. Andrew, Aaron, and Nicky, went to PowerPlant one night. Long story short, shit happened. Andrew ended up getting arrested after nearly killing four men. It didn’t look too good on paper, but they had jumped Nicky, and Andrew was well within his rights to handle the situation. At least, that’s what his lawyers said in Court.

Rather than go to jail, his lawyers struck a deal. Andrew was to spend time in intensive therapy, attend weekly counseling, and take medication. Apparently, after three years, they’d take him off, so long as he had made progress. Andrew would have rather jail.

Months bled into the next and Andrew felt like he was losing his grip on reality. Mental highs and severe lows made up his life. His interest level in anything and everything around him was waning. A few days out of the week, he’d find himself on intense art-making binges, and wouldn’t be able to stop until his body physically gave out on him. Exhaustion was a familiar friend, as was isolation.

His therapist, Bee (Betsy Dobson, a psychologist through MICA) started out as a necessary evil. Eventually, she turned into something that Andrew could lean and rely on. Sometimes, before he felt his high coming on, he’d find himself calling her, rather than running to the studio. Some may call that improvement. He called it fucked up.

The holidays crept closer and Andrew felt like he was slowly dying, even with Bee’s help. He went through packs of cigarettes like he depended on them to live and he was fully ready to give up — a feeling that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. That was when the Winter Banquet came around.

The Winter Banquet was one of the many formal get-togethers that the colleges held. Fall was unremarkable. It was held in New York and nice enough. Andrew left halfway through with Aaron and Nicky to go find something more interesting around the city. The team hated them anyway, so they made their own entertainment. Winter, however, was held by SAIC in Chicago. The Foxes boarded a plane (to Andrews great dismay) and were on their way.

The hall it was held in was nice and covered with windows that displayed the Windy City and it’s falling snow. Everything started off fine. Andrew was working off a medicated high, practically bouncing in his seat. The night passed quickly with a good, ill-advised friend named Whisky, and despite a tiring run-in with the Ravens, went off without a hitch. The next day, the Foxes found a tired looking Abby and Wymack, with some mystery figure in tow. Without knowing who the ominous, black hooded figure was, all of the foxes were ushered onto a bus and taken to the airport by Abby. Wymack rented a car and drove with whomever the person was. Bets on their identity, were exchanged on the flight home. Only Allison got it right.

Turns out, Kevin Day jumped ship after Riko Moriyama went ape shit after the Winter Banquet. With a broken hand and shattered pride, he ran to David Wymack for help (for whatever fucking reason) and became a Fox. The Ravens laughably claimed his injury as a ‘skiing accident’, and subsequently dropped him. He transferred to MICA the second semester and all hell broke loose.

At first, it was fine. Andrew expected Kevin to align with Dan’s crew. Instead, he found himself with _The Monsters_ (Dan’s name for the cousins after the entire incident with Matt). Surprisingly, he fit in quite well. He was just as cocky and just as annoying as Andrew thought he would be. However, together they struck a deal. Kevin wanted Andrew’s protection against the Ravens, Andrew wanted a reason to live. Kevin promised to give him that reason through art. From then on, they were inseparable.

To be honest, Kevin was horrible company to keep. Shit got worse as the Ravens and their odd, artsy fans, caught wind of Kevin’s transfer. They saw it as the ultimate betrayal. Once a week, the Foxes would wake up to some digital or physical attack. Vandalism became common place on MICA’s campus and even internally, fights arose. It was mayhem and for the moment, Andrew was thoroughly entertained.

Foundation year ended and no one died, so that was good.

Funny how things change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary*:  
> SAIC - School of the Art Institute of Chicago  
> MICA - Maryland Institute College of Art  
> RISD - Rhode Island School of Design  
> SVA - School of Visual Art  
> FIT - Fashion Institute of Technology  
> Columbia - Columbia, Maryland, not Columbia, South Carolina. I've changed it for this fic.  
> Eden's Twilight - in same place as Mosaic at PowerPlant, if anyone's been there.  
> Fox Building - Actual building at MICA. Just so happens to work perfectly.   
> BSU - Black Student Union
> 
> Setting:  
> [Latrobe](https://asg-architects.com/wp-content/gallery/june2015-mica-founders-green/01_21182_00_N12_asgweb.jpg), [Founders Green](https://assets.mica.edu/files/resources/classic-med-dsc05424.jpg), [Leake Hall](https://www.hcm2.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/MICA_Leake_Hall_corner-entry.jpg), [Inside Leake Hall 1](https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5352b181e4b095a1b0b4aa56/535d3b33e4b0e6e78cf1ad3d/535e6d96e4b05d1feab6d926/1409947088678/Hodgdon_130816_7394.jpg), [Inside Leake Hall 2](https://st.hzcdn.com/fimgs/29e13e2a07e84346_0794-w500-h400-b0-p0--home-design.jpg), [Dorms](http://www.hcm2.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/MICA_Leake_Hall_unit-kitchen.jpg), [Gateway](https://assets.mica.edu/files/resources/classic-med-gateway-twi01-dsc0006-4.jpg)
> 
> Link to Website with more pictures of Leake: [x](https://www.hcm2.com/projects/leake-residence-hall-mica/)
> 
> Thank you all so fucking much for the overwhelming amount of support already for this fic. I really hope you will continue along with me to see how the foxes fair. I wanted to write more for this chapter, but I've decided to keep what I was going to add for the next chapter. I'm REALLY excited for this story and I hope you all are too!! I will try to keep up with weekly updates, but ultimately, BloodSport has priority. I will try my best though and keep everyone updated on [tumblr](http://bloodydamnit.tumblr.com/) and [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/bloodydamnit/)!
> 
> Thank you again [@fuzzballsheltiepants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzballsheltiepants/pseuds/fuzzballsheltiepants) for being my beta!!!
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! Thank you, thank you, thank you!


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